Fifty Shades of Bates
by BannaLuver
Summary: Anna May Smith falls for billionaire, financial genius, John Bates even though she isn't fully sure what's in store.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _I am throwing this first chapter out there to see if this plot is something you all would enjoy reading. I only plan to continue with it if there seems to be a good bit of interest. This story will be following the story line of E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey. I felt like Bates and Anna could fit this story line. I plan on customizing it to make it work for them, but it will follow several of the Fifty Shades of Grey main points for the most part. Please, let me know if you think I should continue.  
_

 **Disclaimer:** _I do not own Downton Abbey nor any of its characters. I also do not own Fifty Shades of Grey. All credit goes to Julian Fellowes and E.L. James._

* * *

Gwen Dawson is going to owe me big time.

I scramble through my closet to search for something decent to wear, though it is unlikely. I huff in exasperation from my choices and stalk back into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. My hair looks a stringy mess even though I just washed it the night before, and there is a pimple forming to the right side of my chin. _Wonderful!_

As I stand there time is ticking away, and I am nowhere near any closer to leave. I shouldn't even be having to worry about this right now. I should be finishing up the last pieces of pottery I need to complete but no. I am very quickly dashing around the flat, so I can fill in for Gwen for an interview on someone I have never met. Gwen can't help that her mother is suddenly needing her appendix taken out, and she needs to be there with her. But still I hadn't expected her to beg me to do this interview in lieu of her.

Of course, I ended up agreeing early this morning, and now I am in a state of panic.

I quickly bring my hair up into a messy up-do. It isn't the best I've ever done, but truthfully it isn't the worst. For now it will have to do. I am reluctantly opening my make-up bag when my mobile phone rings. I jog into my bedroom to retrieve the phone and see it is Thomas calling. Pressing the green button on the screen, I answer it.

"Hello."

"Anna, you sound winded."

"That's because I am. I have to leave here in half an hour to be in Canary Wharf by ten."

"How far have you gotten?"

"Hair," I state.

"Oh, that's unacceptable. I'll be there in five."

I drop the phone back to my bed as Thomas ends the call and rush to the front door, unlocking it. My feet carry me back to my closet where I stand and groan. This is not good. This is bad. The man I am interviewing is John Bates, CEO of Bates Accountancy Firm. I know nothing of the man other than he is a financial genius, a billionaire, and supposedly is very charitable. I have a short list, and I do mean short, of things I should know and the list of interview questions sitting on the kitchen table.

I hear the front door open, and I'm relieved.

"Anna?"

"I'm back here, Thomas."

He enters the room and sees me standing in the closet looking forlorn.

"Let me see what we have to work with," he insists before I walk out, and he walks in.

He shuffles through the hangers making disapproving sounds as he goes.

"Do you not have any clothes that you don't work with clay in?" he grimaces as he continues his search.

I feel myself blush and reply quietly, "A few."

He steps back from the clothes and says, "You're borrowing something of Gwen's."

My eyes widen. I hadn't thought of that. We walk into Gwen's room, and Thomas immediately storms her closet.

"So, why are you going to Canary Wharf?" he asks as he looks more pleased with Gwen's choices.

"I'm filling in for Gwen at the last minute interviewing John Bates."

He picks out a pair of dark denim skinny jeans, a black blouse, and white jacket.

"John Bates? That name sounds familiar," he muses as he lays the outfit on the bed and goes back for shoes.

"He's the CEO of Bates Accountancy Firm. Gwen was supposed to interview him about his philanthropy work, but her mom ended up in surgery this morning."

Thomas places a pair of black flats next to the outfit and turns around to look at me.

"Yes, I've heard he's kind of mysterious, but it makes sense why you're going to Canary Wharf now. Tell Gwen I'm thinking of her. Put this on."

He walks out of the room to give me some privacy as I change into the clothes. Once I am in them I look into the mirror Gwen has on the back of her door, and I am satisfied with what I see. The look is simple, yet dressy enough for interviewing someone. I walk out of Gwen's room, hoping she won't care I invaded her closet, and back into my room.

"Hurry up, in here," Thomas calls from the bathroom.

I walk in and he has the counter set up with make-up.

"That was fast."

"You have like ten minutes, Anna. I think talking is the last thing we need to be doing right now," he states with a hand on his hip.

Knowing he is right, I sink down into the vanity chair. He is every good at these sorts of things and is currently making his way through school for hair and make-up. He's hoping to work with a fashion company here in London.

"Done," he says only minutes later.

I blink a few times before I turn to look in the mirror. It is clear I have make-up on, but it looks natural. He is even able to hide the pimple that had decided to make itself known.

"How do you do that?" I ask.

He chuckles, "It's what I do. Now, off with you."

We share a quick kiss to both cheeks before he is walking out of the flat. I collect my purse, phone and keys and am now standing by the kitchen table. I pick up all the items left there for me by Gwen and leave the flat.

The morning is cloudy, and as I make my way to the nearest underground station, I hope the rain holds off until I am safely inside BAF. I look to the timetable once I am inside to see I have two minutes before my train arrives. I sigh in relief.

The next thing I know the train is rushing into the station. I must have drifted into my own thoughts for the whole two minutes. When the train comes to a stop and the doors open I quickly enter. It is crowded inside, but that is to be expected on any given weekday morning. I find a small area to stand and clutch tightly to the notepad and file I have in my hold.

When I finally depart the train, I cross the platform and step onto the escalator. The ride is quick to the top and soon I'm stepping back onto the street. The clouds are getting darker as I look up to notice them, but my destination is close. Exhaling, I begin my determined walk to Bates Accountancy Firm.

My steps begin to slow as I come face to face with a large, towering building. There has to be at least thirty floors to the rectangular structure. My eyes scan back down the countless windows to look at the front where a large B,A, and F stand tall and prominent above the entry way. _There's no mistaking I have the right place. That's for sure._

I'm only going to make myself late if I stand there and gape all morning, so I walk forward and into the building.

I'm surrounded by a clean and minimal foyer. The floors are a glistening white marble that makes even the sound of my ballerina flats more pronounced. I could only imagine what heels would sound like. The reception desk is a dark, slate blue that I can see my reflection in as I move closer. The wall behind is a highly polished walnut ship lap with a large TV monitor with the words 'Welcome to Bates Accountancy Firm' on the screen. I feel my head turning to see what else is in the room to find a couple of plush chairs in a form of a waiting area.

"May I help you?"

I look straight ahead as I stop in front of the slate blue counter and see a beautiful brunette addressing me.

"I..." I falter as her dark brown eyes peer at me. "I'm here to see John Bates."

She holds my gaze for a couple of seconds more before she says, "One moment, please."

She quickly types something into the computer and then looks back up.

"The lifts are to your left please take one to the thirtieth floor."

I realize when she looks back to her computer that she isn't going to say anything else, so I turn and walk to the lifts. When I press the smooth up button along the wall the doors immediately open and I step inside. Pressing the button with the number thirty on it, I watch the doors close and then feel myself being lifted upward.

A soft ding is the only sound I hear as the doors open again. I step out of the lift and into what appears to be another foyer. This one looks much the same as the bottom floor, and I walk to the counter to see yet another breathtakingly beautiful brunette sitting behind a computer.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm Anna May Smith. I'm here in place of Gwen Dawson to meet with John Bates."

The brunette, who has her hair in a tight bun, types rapidly and then suddenly looks back up to me.

"Mr. Bates is just finishing up with someone else at the moment, Miss Smith."

"Oh, okay."

The brunette stands and rounds the counter.

"You may have a seat over here," she says as she points to a couple of chairs. "May I offer you something to drink while you wait?"

I feel slightly flustered at being addressed so formally and politely.

"No, thank you."

The brunette nods and walks back to her station, and I take my seat on a ridiculously comfortable chair. It's then I release my death like grip on the note pad and file I've been carrying. I look down and notice I've slightly crumpled several pages of the note pad. _Way to start off on the right foot, Anna._

I feel myself stiffen as I hear a door open and a voice fill the air. I look to see a gentleman with dark hair wearing a chocolate brown suit leaving the room he was just in.

"I'll see you out in the field soon then?" The man says as he looks back into the room.

I didn't hear the reply before the man turned to leave. He gives me a small smile and nod before he is in the lift and gone.

"Mr. Bates will see you now," calls the brunette.

I make my way to my feet even though I'm now feeling wobbly. My nerves are attempting to make themselves known now that I am finally going to be meeting him, a man I know almost nothing about. I walk over to the closed door of Mr. Bates' office and take the handle in hand. I pull the door open forcefully thinking it would be quite heavy but find out it is light and drop my things to the ground.

With my heart now in my throat, I instantaneously bend down to collect the note pad and file and ungracefully stand myself back up as a feel a hand press lightly to my back. _Why, Anna, why._

I force myself to look up. Whoa, he's not what I expected.

"Miss Dawson, are you quite all right?"

I find myself just staring instead of speaking.

"I'm John Bates. Please, have a seat."

My mind hadn't come close to envisioning the man before me. He is middle-aged and handsome in a way I couldn't put my finger on. He's wearing a navy suit, crisp white shirt, and navy tie. He's tall, much taller than I am, and has rich chestnut hair held in place lightly by product. His eyes are a concoction of green and brown. I find he is now looking at me with the slightest bit of confusion in his eyes.

"I..." I stutter. Did his eyes just change to more brown?

I lift my hand in an attempt to get a grip on myself and say, "I'm not Miss Dawson. She had a family emergency."

He takes my hand oh-so-gently into his and wraps his fingers around mine. I find myself almost gasping from the contact.

"Is that so?" he murmurs.

"Yes, I'm Anna May Smith."

He releases his grip on my hand, and I let it fall back down to my side. _Why did that feel so intense?_

"Please," he says as he waves his hands to the brown leather chairs in front of his desk.

I give him a tight and embarrassed smile as I move in the direction of the chairs. It's then my eyes wonder around his office for the first time. It's not what I was expecting it to be. The walls are dark walnut wood much like the ship lap behind the reception counter. These walls though have carvings. He has a few art pieces hanging up, landscape pieces. Along the far wall is a wall to wall bookcase filled with books and a few decorative additions. His desk is also a dark wood and large. It looks quite intimidating, and I wonder if he has chosen this desk specifically for that reason. There is a large brown leather chair behind his desk and windows line the wall. It let's in a nice natural light into the room making it not as dark. My flats lightly tap against the hardwood floor before I take my seat.

I fumble with my purse and the items now in my lap as he sits across from me.

"Do you work with the same paper as Miss Dawson, Miss Smith?" he asks as his crosses one long leg over the other.

I stop my fidgeting to look up at him. His gaze is pressing into mine.

"I... that is no. No, I don't." I stammer.

"May I ask what makes you qualified to interview me then?"

I blink at him as his face remains stoic. I suddenly feel more panicked.

"I have her interview questions here with me. So, it'll be like she's here instead of me anyway."

I nervously tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear that has fallen out of my messy up-do.

"Proceed, Miss Smith," he responds with a faint smirk gracing the corner of his mouth.

I pull a recorder out of my purse and say, "May I record this?"

He stares blankly at me for a few seconds before he gives his consent.

He probably thinks I'm out of my depth, which I am completely.

"Thank you," I murmur before I look down to the questions in my lap. I take a pen into my right hand and hover it above the note pad.

I read the first question on the page. "How did you end up being the financial genius of London?"

I lift my eyes from the page to look to him for a response. He looks as though he's been asked this question more times than he can count.

He clinches his jaw and then replies, "Success is equal to control in all things, Miss Smith. I learned very early on that you have to be structured and efficient. The only reason I am where I am is because of hard work, countless hours of time, and the people I employ around me. The term 'financial genius' is not a phrase I identify with."

"But that is technically what you are isn't it?"

"I am good with numbers, tax codes, legal terms, and currency. This wasn't some twist of fate. I studied accountancy at Oxford before dropping out to strike out on my own. I now employee twenty thousand or so employees who help to make what I have built even stronger. It really is about those around you, and how you use them."

Well, he's sort of over confident.

"And what about you? What is it you do?"

I feel myself tense at his question. I am the one supposed to be interviewing him not the other way around. He looks at me expectantly, so I feel as though I must answer his question.

"I'm a potter," I say quietly.

One of his eyebrows arc upward. "As in someone who makes pottery?"

I nod my head and bite my lower lip. I notice his eyes darken, and I feel a sensation through my lower half.

"Answer me," he says calmly yet firmly.

I release my bottom lip and say, "Yes. I make pottery and sculptures."

A short silence passes between us, so I look back down to the page to ask the next question.

"Do you consider it a good deed to be one of London's largest employers?"

I look back up to look at his stoic face again.

"It's just business. I do not put any emotional attachment into the business I run. I employ people because it is necessary not because I feel I owe it to anyone. I give people a fair wage for their time and effort."

"So, I'm assuming there aren't any office Christmas parties." I didn't mean to say it out loud.

"No, there isn't. I don't run the largest accounting firm to be frivolous. Anyone employed by me is treated with the dignity and respect they deserve. I see no reason to add anything personal."

I need to make a mental note to never apply for work for his company. I feel sorry for his employees already.

"What is it that John Bates does when he's not working?" I read from the list.

"I have unique pastimes, Miss Smith." His lips curl faintly into a half-smile. I feel my heart pound a little harder looking at it.

I look back to my list, knowing if I continue to ask him about his interests I'll lose sight of why I'm here.

"You work closely with Crystal Life Spring International. Why do you support this cause?"

"I believe clean drinking water is a right for everyone. Who are we to say who deserves to have fresh drinking water, and who doesn't? I believe it is important work to install wells around the world. No one should ever go thirsty just because they can't access fresh water."

"I quite agree."

A sparkle shoots across his eyes as he continues to stare at me intently.

"So, is that why you also invest in manufacturing?"

"Partly. I would like to create some better technology for people to access water. I have a team working on this. I also like to see how things are made."

"Looks like you have emotional attachment in this case."

He cocks his head to one side and regards me. He smirks.

"Excellent observation, Miss Smith. Though I know it not to be true."

"How so?"

"Most people have come to the conclusion I don't have feelings."

"Why's that?"

"Because they know me."

I swallow hard. Oh God, here I am grilling a man I've only just met. I decide to get back on course and ask another question from the list.

"Would you consider yourself to be spontaneous?"

When I look up I see a wide grin on his face. I feel myself blush at the sight of it.

"No. I like order. I like to have a plan for everything."

"Sounds kinda controlling," I murmur.

"Yes," he replies as he holds out the 's'. "It is. Control is an integral part of everything I do."

I have an intense urge to roll my eyes but refrain.

"Control can bring a level of satisfaction one isn't aware until they experience it."

A shiver involuntarily runs up my spine. One moment he's speaking about supplying the world with water, the next he's talking about controlling everything. I fidget in my chair.

"You were raised by your father until the age of ten before you were adopted," I read from the paper, "how do you think this has impacted your charity work?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask my parents," he says in a clipped tone.

"Do you have a large family?"

"I have my parents and a younger sister, which is more than enough."

"Mr. Bates, are you gay?"

His nose flares briefly before I look away. _Great, Gwen! Just great!_ Why does she even want to know this?

"No, Anna May, I am not gay."

He looks pissed. His eyes feel like they scorch mine when I look back at him.

"Sorry, Mr. Bates. It was one of Gwen's questions."

"How do you know Miss Dawson?" he asks quickly.

"We're flatmates. She also went to university together."

"I assume you studied art?"

"I did."

"Did you have any other questions?"

I instantly look back to list and decide not to ask anymore. I've more than likely upset him and took enough of his time as it is.

"No," I say as I look back up.

"What a question to end on, Miss Smith," he says as he stands.

I feel my body flush pink from embarrassment. What a horrible interview. I only hope Gwen can salvage some of it.

I turn off the recorder and place it in my purse. I sling the purse onto my shoulder and take the notepad and file into my grip as I stand.

He rounds the desk and stands in front of me. I feel a bit dizzy as I look up to meet his gaze which is intense and firm.

"Do you currently work somewhere?"

"I'm working out of my flat until something turns up."

"Like what?"

"Either a position in a gallery or until I can afford to open of my own."

"Do you make enough to sustain yourself?"

 _What? What's it to him?_

"I do just fine, Mr. Bates. If you'll excuse me, I've taken up too much of your time as it is."

"Do be careful riding back to..."

"Hackney."

He gives me a surprised look. "Not too far from here then."

I shake my head.

"Did you take the underground?" His voice is demanding.

"I did."

His face hardens as though he disapproves.

"Please be careful."

 _Okayyyyyy._

He reaches his hand out towards me, and I shake it lightly. I feel a warmth spill through me.

We drop our hands, and he walks me out of his office.

"Is there anything you may need before you leave?" he asks as we reach the lifts.

"Ummm... I don't believe so," I reply with uncertainty.

I press the button on the wall to call the lift. When the doors open I walk inside quickly. I feel as though I can't get enough air in my lungs, and I am not sure why I feel this way. I turn to see him with his hands in his pockets and his eyes strictly on mine. He's handsome, so very handsome. Why does he keep looking at me that way, and why do I feel a stirring by it?

"Anna May," he grins as the lift doors close.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Here we go with Chapter 2. I always love to know what you think. :)_

 **Disclaimer:** _Same 1-2._

* * *

I forcefully close the door to the flat and hurry into the kitchen to place all the things I am carrying onto the table. I place both my hands onto the flat surface and take in deep breaths. What is wrong with me? I thought about him the entire way home. My mind is so wrapped up in John Bates I almost forgot to get off the train at my stop. I slowly breathe in and out to try to clear my head. I have never been impacted by a man like this before.

I have to stop thinking about him. It was a short, awkward meeting, and I am sure he has already forgotten me by now. I can hear his voice rasping through my thoughts and it makes me gasp. Is it his voice? Is that what has me drawn in? His looks? Confidence? I shake my head and lift my hands from the table. It's silly to keep thinking about it.

I walk into my room and change out of Gwen's clothes. Good thing Thomas decided I should borrow from her. I definitely would have looked more out of place than I already did if I wore something from my wardrobe. Once I'm changed into a t-shirt and leggings I take Gwen's clothes back into her room. I hang up her jacket and place the shirt and jeans into the laundry bin. I am sure I'll be asked about that later. I feel the need to get my mind off of the incredibly weird morning I've had, so I go to my corner of the front room and set up my pottery wheel. I take a block of clay from it's packaging and place it on my worktop. As I knead the clay with my hands I try to think of the piece I want to make with it. My hands work the clay trying to get all the air bubbles out of it. It's one of my favorite parts of the process. It helps relieve stress and frustration. My mind wanders as I try to let my imagination help me decide. A vase with midnight blue glaze along the body, shoulder, and neck with silver glaze along the base and lip would look great in John Bates' office. I stop kneading.

 _Stop it, Anna!_

I look back at the now ball of clay and slam my fist on top of it. I'll make the vase that I now have in my mind, but it won't end up belonging to John Bates.

My hands are molding the clay with care as a sit at my wheel. The form is beginning to shape in front of me, and I am pleased with it. Mr. Bates also has a nice shape to him as well, strong shoulders, broad frame, long legs, and captivating eyes. Yes, he's very attractive. I scold myself for thinking of him, yet again, and go back to focusing on my piece.

I hear the front door unlocking as I place my finished piece on the wooden shelf for drying. I drop the plastic sheet back in front of it and turn around.

"Hey," says Gwen as she opens the door and closes it behind her.

"Hey, how's your mum?"

"She's resting, but the doctor said she should be able to go home tomorrow."

"That's wonderful to hear."

Gwen lays down her keys and purse on the table by the door. She walks into the kitchen as she says, "I could use a drink what about you? It's been a long day."

I sigh. "I wish I could. I have to work at Jenkins tonight."

Gwen pours herself a glass of white wine. "Call in ill. I'm sure you've had a long day."

 _You have no idea._

"You know I don't call in ill when I'm not. It's only until nine."

"I'll just go over what you got today while you're out then. Is this everything?"

She points to where I've deposited the file, notepad, and recorder.

"Yes."

"Great. I can't wait to go through it."

I only hope there is enough for her to write about.

* * *

My shift at Jenkins flies by, and now I'm walking home. Jenkins is a locally owned art supply store that I have been working part time at for the last six years. The Jenkins are a nice family to work for and have been great employers; the discount I get on art supplies is a major plus as well. It helps me to make a decent profit when I sell a piece.

I take out my key from my pocket and unlock the complex door. Stepping inside, I take the stairs to the second floor and walk down the corridor to our flat.

"Hey, you're back," I hear Gwen say, and I step inside and close the door behind me.

I slip my purse off my shoulder and lay it and my keys onto the table by the door.

"Yeah, the shop was pretty dead tonight, though I'm not complaining."

I flop myself down onto the couch next to Gwen who has handwritten pages spread out on the coffee table.

"So, your interview was quite interesting, though he ended up interviewing you as much as you did him. It sounded as though he wanted to get to know you," she says as she slowly arches one eyebrow.

I feel confused and slightly off balance even though I'm sitting down. I had done a fine job of not thinking of him while working this evening, well for the majority of the time, and now here we are discussing him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrug.

"Anyway, thank you again for stepping in for me. I've got enough to make a good article."

I exhale. _Thank God._

"He wasn't very forthcoming on a few things though was he?" Gwen continues.

"No."

"What did you think of him?"

"Well, first of all it would have been nice to know a little bit more about the man before I met him."

Gwen winces. "Yeah, I would have done if I'd had more time. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," I relent. I know it wasn't her fault. "He was cryptic yet passionate at times, a little demanding if not controlling, charming and clearly successful. I can see why there's a mystery complex associated with him."

"A handsome bloke, too, isn't he?" Gwen smiles wickedly.

I feel myself blush as his face pops into my mind. "I guess."

"You guess? He's one of London's most eligible bachelors, of course he's attractive. Even you can admit to that."

I decide to dodge.

"It was quite embarrassing to ask him if he was gay by the way. I believe it pissed him off," I respond as I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"Well, he's thirty-six, and I've never seen anything about him with a woman."

"Thirty-six?" I ask in disbelief. From the way he carried himself and how he interacted, I would have said he was older. "I didn't even know how old he was."

"I dropped the ball looks like," Gwen says with an apologetic look.

I wave my hand to dismiss her comment. "It doesn't matter. The whole thing is over. I'm sure I'll never have to see John Bates again."

* * *

The week goes by at a steady pace and now it is Friday night. Gwen and I are sitting on the sofa trying to think of something to do. We've both been either working or cooped up in the flat most of the week. My phone rings inside my jean pocket, so I take it out to see it is Thomas who is calling.

"Hey, Thomas. Gwen and I are both talking to you," I answer after I put him on speaker.

"Hey, girls."

"Hey, Thomas," Gwen greets.

"Have plans tonight?"

"No, we were trying to think of something," I say.

"Try no more. Meet me at mine. I'll cook. I have something to tell you both."

"We'll see you soon."

Once we arrive at Thomas' place he is in full swing in the kitchen.

"This looks like it'll take forever, but it won't. Have a seat," Thomas says as he adds mushrooms to a skillet.

Gwen and I sit at the kitchen island where there are three wine glasses and a bottle of wine placed there already.

Gwen pours all of us a glass as we talk about our weeks and make general small talk. Thomas turns down the heat and looks to us.

"So, either one of you crushing on someone?"

"No," Gwen states with a hint of sadness.

My mind wonders to a set of hazel eyes before I shake myself.

"Nope," I say a little too casually.

When the food is done, Thomas plates it up and takes a seat at the island with us.

"So, what is this big news?" I ask as I tuck into my food.

"Well," he begins as a wide grin takes over his face. "I've been asked to assist with the Modern Lace fashion show next month."

"What?!" Gwen and I both exclaim.

"Thomas! That is amazing!"

Gwen and I met Thomas while attending university, and we've all been friends ever since. I always knew he would end up making it big.

"I couldn't believe it," he gushes. "I hope I don't disappoint."

"You could never disappoint. You're going to be brilliant!"

"I want you both to attend the show. If you want to of course," he replies tentatively.

"Don't be silly. We'd love to come," I answer for the both of us.

Gwen lifts her wine glass in the air and says, "To Thomas who is going to rock the fashion world."

Thomas and I lift ours glasses as well before we clink them together.

* * *

The next day I'm in the middle of my shift at Jenkins. It is a busy Saturday with people buzzing in and out of the shop. I'm currently in the painting aisle restocking all the small tubes and containers of acrylic paint. This type of paint is popular all year round. It's used in most of the schools for painting projects, and during the summer for at home children's projects or adults who like to use acrylic. I take my box cutter out of my back jean pocket and open up the next cardboard box filled with blue paint. I bend over and remove what's left of the blue paint containers from the shelf so the oldest paint will be in the front. Once I have placed the bottles onto the floor I stand up and notice a body standing at the end of the aisle. I look up further.

 _Oh my God!_

I know without a doubt that I have a deer in the highlight look on my face, but it can't be helped.

"Miss Smith. Fancy meeting you again," he greets without moving closer.

"Mr. Bates," I reply as my brain connects with my vocal cords.

Is he really standing here right now? Why is he in Hackney of all places? My mouth dries as I notice he is dressed in a red and black flannel shirt, dark denims, and black boots. His hair is held in place by product like the last time I saw him, but this time there is one small lock loose on his forehead.

I'm jarred from my staring as he begins to walk towards me. He smirks at me like he is glad I'm so speechless.

"I thought you worked from home, Miss Smith," he asks lightly though his eyes are intense as they study me.

"Anna. My name is Anna, and I do work from home. This is a part time job I have on the side."

He looks at me as though the thought of me having two jobs is displeasing, but I've done it for years and it doesn't bother me. I only plan on turning in my notice when I land a gallery job. Until then I intend on staying.

"What brings you to Hackney?" I finally find some purchase and ask.

"I was with a client in the area earlier. I could use a few things," he responds easily.

"Okay, what can I help you find?" _I would have never pictured him as artistic._

"I'm in need of a ruler," he begins with a hint of a smile playing just under his stoic expression.

"We have all different kinds. They'll be in aisle five if you'd like to follow me."

"After you, Miss Smith," he replies with a wave of his hand.

"Okay." My reply is in a higher pitch and sounds like a teenage girl who has just spoken to her crush, but I manage to turn around and walk in the direction we need to go. This gives me time to slow my breathing, though it's not slowing as much as I would like. When we reach the rulers a wave my hand at the wide selection in front of us.

I watch him as he looks over his options. His profile is so masculine. It's almost as if I can feel masculinity radiating off of him. Suddenly, he leans forward to make his selection. His aftershave invades my senses as he grabs a thirty centimeter wooden ruler. It's the most basic one we have, but I can't think about that as his alluring scent keeps me occupied.

"Do you sell bandanas?"

My eyes shoot up to his. He's looking at me with slight amusement. It takes me a couple of seconds to remember that we do sell them, though it's not an item that is asked for frequently.

"Ummm. Yeah, we do."

I turn from him again and walk down the aisle and around the corner. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way until we are in front of the small inventory of bandanas.

"What color do you prefer?" I ask, trying to appear confident in my inventory knowledge.

"Most definitely red." His reply is immediate, and he smiles.

I give him a nervous smile back before I collect a red bandana from the shelf. I hand it to him and our fingers brush. The intensity I had felt the last time I touched him is back. Does he feel this, too? This strong pull?

 _Get a grip, Anna._

I clear my throat as I drop my hand.

"Anything else?"

"I'm thinking a feather," he says casually.

What in the world could he possibly need a feather for?

"A pack of feathers or singular?" I ask to keep my mind focused.

"Singular, preferably." His tone is business-like, but his hazel eyes are telling a story I haven't figured out.

"Aisle eight it is then."

As we walk he asks, "Have you been employed here long?"

"Six years."

I stop by the feathers and turn to look at them. I don't want to make a fool of myself and stare at him the entire time he is in the shop.

He lifts his free hand and points to a long feather with subtle blues and purples running through it.

"Do you like this one?" He asks, though why he wants my opinion I'm not sure.

"It depends on what it's being used for."

His sneaky I-know-what-I-am-thinking-but-you-don't smile returns as he says, "It will accentuate something else."

I have no idea what his cryptic words mean, so I look at that particular feather versus the others and it appears to be the nicest one.

"Then I think this feather is the best out of the rest."

"Then I shall buy this one."

He raises the feather carefully from the plastic tube it is standing in and holds it gently.

"Are you designing something?" I find myself asking.

"No. I'm not designing. How is your pottery going?"

He remembers I'm a potter. I would have thought he had completely forgotten our whole awkward conversation, though I haven't forgotten a single second.

"It's going well. I have a few pieces that need to be finished soon."

"You have some sold?"

"Yes." My voice is breathy.

I feel myself almost start to lose my balance as my eyes are pulled deeper into his. I have to break whatever spell I'm under.

"What else can I help you find?"

"Hmmm. I'm not sure. What might I need?"

I look down the aisle in thought, and as I look back my eyes roam over him.

"An apron."

He let's out a short, soft chuckle.

 _An apron? Are you kidding me?_

"An apron?" He asks, teasing me.

"Yes, to protect your clothes." I hope this redeems me somewhat, though I never wear an apron myself even though I should.

"I could always go sans clothes." His smile is wicked.

Just when I thought my heart rate couldn't possibly spike any higher. I'm now picturing him sans clothes, and I have to stop myself. I end up flushing which gives me away.

"Though it might be good to have."

I quickly lead him to the aprons which aren't too far away, thank heavens. I reach for an apron and hand it to him.

"Anything else?"

"I believe this will be all, Miss Smith."

 _Oh, Thank God._

He follows me to the front of the store and over to the register.

"How did the article turn out?"

"I'm not sure. Gwen, Miss Dawson, should have it in the paper soon."

"I'm looking forward to having a few things cleared up about me," he states.

 _He's talking about the gay question isn't he?_

I want to crawl into a ball and disappear.

"Anna!"

Gary, Mr. Jenkins' son, is walking in our direction. He must have just gotten in from his trip to Greece. He continues until he's behind the counter with me.

"Gary, you're back," I say in greeting. When I turn to him I notice Mr. Bates jaw line clinch.

Gary sweeps me up into a big hug. "I got back in a little bit ago and decided to stop in to see the folks. I didn't know you'd be here."

He releases me and I turn half way back to see Mr. Bates eyeing Gary with a hardened expression.

"Gary, I've been working with a customer here. This is John Bates. Mr. Bates this is Gary Jenkins. His father owns the shop. Gary's been in Greece studying architecture."

"Mr. Jenkins," Bates nods.

"Mr. Bates."

"Well, I'll let you get back to work. We'll catch up later," Gary says to me.

"Sure," I smile.

Gary walks around the counter and out of sight. Mr. Bates' eyes are fixed on me once again though they seem more distant now.

I make quick work of ringing up his items and placing his items in bags. I give him his total and for whatever reason he almost looks angry with me.

He hands me his credit card. I swipe it and say, "Would you like a copy of your receipt?"

"Please, Anna May," he rasps.

I drop his card on the counter as the receipt pops up. With slightly trembling fingers I pick it back up and hand him his card and the receipt.

"Um. Thank you for coming in Mr. Bates," I say.

"It was a pleasure to see you again."

He takes his bags and walks towards the entrance. Before he exits he looks back to me and says, "For the record, I'm glad you interviewed me instead of Miss Dawson."

As he exits, my hand reaches out to grip the side of the counter. My knees feel weak and my heart is back to racing speed. Here I was thinking I'd be relieved when he left, but instead he has left me wanting more time with him. Okay, so I've never felt like this before, but what are the odds of us crossing paths yet again? I shake my head at my silly thoughts and walk back towards the painting aisle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** _Same 1-3._

* * *

I decide a run is exactly what I need in order to clear my mind. I need to glaze and fire at least two pieces today, maybe three, and I'm getting no where with my thoughts wrapped around _him._ My dreams were even invaded by Mr. Bates last night. I slip on my sweats and a gray t-shirt over my knickers and sports bra. I grab my socks and trainers and get them on before I search for my earbuds. I find them on my desk. Walking into the lounge I grab my phone and my keys and leave the flat.

The morning is still a little foggy but the sun is quickly making it vanish. The local park is always my favorite place to run. My feet are lightly hitting the pavement over and over again as Usher starts letting me know 'U got it bad' through my earbuds.

 _Okay, so it wouldn't be the end of the world to see him again._

It was completely unexpected to see him yesterday at Jenkins not that I am complaining. It was a treat to see Mr. Financial Genius dressed down in a flannel shirt and jeans. He looked casual and down right sexy, though why he was in an art supply shop I have no clue. Gwen had been more than interrogative when I told her he showed up. She had even chastised me for not getting his number. Why would I do that?

 _Because you want to speak to him again,_ my subconscious graciously points out to me.

It's too late now. I don't have his number and frankly he was just popping in without expecting me to be working there. I told him I worked from home, which I do. Gwen is making a big fuss over nothing. Yes, he's gorgeous and has a smirk that would make any woman swoon, but he's way out of my league. He could surely have his pick of women.

The fog has completely lifted by the time I make my first loop around the park. My body is now warm from my exertion, and my breathing is accelerated. It's just what I need to get my mind straight. I smile at a duck who is waddling his way towards the pond before I round the next bend. My feet carry me quickly around the curve until I'm on a straight section again. It's there I see someone walking in the opposite direction towards me. It's a man wearing a much-too-nice pair of chinos and a light blue linen shirt. He is wearing a flat cap atop of his head. His head lifts and when we make eye contract he smirks at me.

I trip on air and almost land face first on my face. My breathing is even more constricted in my lungs.

"Miss Smith," I heard him call.

 _How? How is he here?_

I finally bring myself to standing still as he reaches me. His brow furrows as he looks at me.

"Are you all right?"

I can't hear very well with my earbuds still in, so I take them out and hold them.

"Yes." My reply is quick as I keep trying to drag air into my lungs.

"Are you sure? You almost fell," he asserts as his gaze is trained on me.

"Just a bit of clumsiness. I'm fine, really."

His expression softens some after my assurance. I'm still curious as to why he's here.

"Habit then."

"What habit?"

"Clumsiness."

My mind drifts to me dropping the things onto his office floor. I blush and change the subject.

"Still in the area then?"

He slides his hands into his trouser pockets.

"I am. I'm still working with the client I mentioned to you yesterday."

"Oh, right."

I fidget with my earbuds before I speak again.

"Just out for a walk?"

"Yes. This park is lovely."

With my breathing now almost under control, I reply, "It is. I do most of my walking or jogging here."

"I can see why."

A brief silence falls between us and an unidentifiable expression flashes across Mr. Bates' face. His jaw tightens then relaxes as he looks to me with an easy gaze.

"I was just going to go to the tea shop a couple of blocks from here. Would you be available to join me?"

Just when my heart rate had started to even out he invites me for tea. John Bates, CEO of Bates Accountancy Firm, wants to have tea with me. Would it be like a date if I say yes? _Oh my God, look at me and I don't have my purse. I've been silent way too long._

"I don't think I'm properly clothed, and I didn't bring my purse," I say a little chest-fallen.

"I wouldn't dream of you paying, Miss Smith, and I'm sure no one will mind what you are wearing."

My inner goddess is clapping her hands together happily at the idea of being in his company again, while my subconscious is looking at me and scrunching up her nose.

Really, what will it hurt to spend some time with him even if I don't look my best?

"Okay, I'll join you."

His smile is breathtaking.

"Wonderful."

He turns and we begin to walk towards the tea shop. I fumble with my phone for a few seconds realizing music is still blaring through the earbuds. I turn off the music and lower my hands to my sides. We are walking at a moderate pace and out of the corner of my eye I notice a hitch in his gait that I hadn't before. I wonder if he has just recently injured it.

We reach the tea shop, and he opens the door for me.

"After you."

"Thanks."

I step in and walk further inside. A few seconds later he is standing beside me pointing to the right.

"There's a table over there."

I give him a quick nod, and we both go to the table. I take my seat as he rounds the table and takes the seat opposite me. The tea shop isn't a new place to me but not necessarily familiar either. I've been in it a handful of times. A waiter comes over almost as soon as we are seated.

"Hello, what can I get you folks."

He nods for me to order first.

"I'll have Yorkshire tea, please."

"Milk and sugar?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"And you, sir?"

I watch him as he looks up and over to the waiter. A heady confidence breaks through.

"Earl grey, please."

How is it possible for him to sound sexy while just ordering tea?

"Milk and sugar?"

"No."

The waiter left our table then, and now I'm sitting here feeling awkward. What could a woman like me have to say to a man like him? Why did he invite me at all?

"How's the art shop?"

His question is quick and out of nowhere. I assume it is to break the tension between us.

"Fine."

"I noticed you ordered Yorkshire tea."

He crosses his legs at the ankles making his body look even longer as he waits for my reply. My eyes roam over his legs a bit longer before I make eye contact with him again.

"Yes, it's my favorite."

"Are you from the area?"

His facial expression shifted to one of obvious curiosity.

"I was born and raised in Downton, but I decided not to move back after I attended university."

The waiter returns to our table and sits down our mugs and my tea things. He leaves as quickly as he came. I start fixing my tea the way I prefer it.

"Do your parents still live there?"

I decide to make him wait for an answer as I place my spoon on a napkin and take the first sip of my drink. He appears to be slightly irritated I'm making him wait.

Placing my mug back on the table, I reply, "My father still lives in Downton. My mother lives with my step father in New York."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"As in New York City?"

"The very same."

"What of your siblings?"

"I'm an only child."

"Has your mother been in New York a while?"

I feel as though I'm on some hidden camera show were I'm to be asked twenty questions. Why does he want to know all of this?

"Since I was twelve. Her and my dad ended up divorcing. She moved as far away as she could to start again. She met a bloke named Peter about a year after she moved there and has been married to him ever since."

"Did you ever live with her?"

He lifts his mug and takes a long sip as he continues to look at me.

"No," I sigh. "I always got on better with my dad, so I never went to live with her."

"What is it he does?" he says as his mug returns to the table.

"Former military. Navy actually. He retired not too long ago. He likes football, the odd hunting trip here and there, throwing BBQ's."

I feel as though I've given him quite a bit of information about myself in a very short time frame. I decide to ask him some questions as well.

"And what of your parents?"

He taps the handle of his mug with his fingertip before saying, "My parents live in Southwark. My mother is a pediatric nurse. My father is a lawyer."

I remember he is adopted. It appears he ended up in a well-to-do family.

"And your sister?"

"My sister is studying to become a teacher."

His answer is to the point. I know he isn't going to elaborate.

"Well, that's an honorable profession to go into," I offer.

His nod is barely visible before he changes the subject altogether.

"The bloke at the art supply shop. Is he your boyfriend?"

He is so forthcoming with his question that I am taken aback. He's definitely not afraid to speak directly.

"Gary? No. I've known him a long time, but he's just a friend."

"But why are you blushing when telling me?"

It's only then I feel my cheeks burning. _Maybe because it's such an unexpected, intimate question, Mr. Bates!_

"I just wasn't expecting you to ask is all."

"Anna."

I am saved from my embarrassment when I hear a familiar voice call out my name. I look and see Gwen approaching our table. I sigh a breath of relief.

"What are you doing here?"

She looks to me so Mr. Bates can't see her face. Her eyes are wide and questioning.

"I was out jogging, and I ran into Mr. Bates. He invited me for tea," I explain.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see his eyes trained on me. I already know he's wondering who this is.

"Oh, how lovely," Gwen comments.

I look to Mr. Bates and introduce the two of them.

"Mr. Bates, this is Gwen Dawson. Gwen this is John Bates."

Gwen turns and reaches out her hand. He does the same and they shake lightly before dropping hands.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Bates."

"Same to you, Miss Dawson. Are you the same Miss Dawson who was to originally interview me?"

"Yes, I had a family emergency, but Anna here helped me out in my time of need. What brings you to Hackney?"

"I've been working with a client here. How is the article coming along?"

"It's nearly finished. Should be in the paper within the week. Thank you again for consenting to the interview. I know you're a private man."

His mouth quirks up on one side as he says, "Very private. I look forward to reading it."

Gwen smiles and looks back to me.

I ask, "What brings you in?"

"I'm collecting a few takeaway teas for a meeting. Seems they like a certain blend from here. I'll see you at home later, yeah?"

"Yeah."

She turns her head and addresses Mr. Bates again.

"Pleasure, Mr. Bates."

"Ditto, Miss Gwen."

Gwen flashes me a wicked smile and walks away from our table and over to the queue. I know exactly what that smile means, and now I feel more nervous than I did before Gwen arrived.

"Well, I guess I need to get going."

"Have I kept you?"

"No, I just should get back home. I have some pieces to work on."

He stands and rounds the table. He reaches his hand out to me and commands, "Come. I'll give you a lift home."

For whatever reason, I take his hand and stand up.

"I can walk. It's not a problem."

"And I can just as easily drive you there. I insist."

I almost roll my eyes at his authoritative tone but refrain.

"As you wish."

He smiles a secret smile, and we walk out of the tea shop.

Outside there is a black Audi SUV parked out front. A gentleman wearing a black suit and sunglasses is opening the backdoor of the car as we approach.

"Is this your car?" I find myself asking.

"Yes, it is."

"And him?"

I'm looking in Mr. Suit and Sunglasses direction. Mr. Bates nods and he rounds the car to get into the driver's seat.

"That is my driver, Lang."

I climb inside the car, and Mr. Bates closes the door once I'm seated. It takes him only seconds to climb into the car himself.

"Lang, drive us to the address Miss Smith gives you."

"Yes, sir," Lang says.

I find myself looking from Mr. Bates to Lang. I give him my home address, and we pull out on the road.

The drive to my place is a quiet affair. I don't know if that is because I'm already boring him to death, or if he doesn't like to talk with his driver around. With my luck, it is the former. Not many people are interested in getting to know a girl from Hackney who works with pottery.

When Lang parks outside my complex I start to open my door, but I am stopped by the brush of Mr. Bates' fingertips on my forearm. I quickly look over to him.

"Allow me," he states simply.

He removes his fingers and opens his car door. He steps out, closes the door, and rounds the car to open mine. I give him a quiet thank you as I step out of the car and he closes the door back.

We walk to the front door of the lobby, and I finally find my voice.

"Thank you for the tea, Mr. Bates."

"You're welcome. Thank you for indulging my request at such short notice."

I am suddenly very aware that our time is about up. Without thinking it through, I say, "So, you have a girlfriend?"

 _Oh, Anna! How awkward!_

He looks at me with a secret smile and replies, "No, I don't. I don't do the whole boyfriend, girlfriend thing."

I instantly feel sad by his reply. Does he mean he doesn't do the relationship thing in general or just isn't interested in one with me? Feeling embarrassed, I take out my keys and step back. My calves hit the back of the potted flowers there, and I start to fall backwards before Mr. Bates grabs hold of me. I see a grimace of what appears to be pain run across his features, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. He's holding onto my forearms as his face morphs into concern.

"You need to be more careful."

I feel the warmth of his hands on my skin while I try to focus.

"I've never tripped over this pot of flowers before," I say in defense of myself.

His thumbs skim over my wrists.

"Are you hurt?"

I shake my head in response. His eyes flash a deeper brown, and I would give just about anything to be held properly by him right now. He's so close I can breathe in his scent. It's intoxicating.

"I'm not the man for you, Anna May," he says out of the blue as he drops his hands. "I hope your pottery business continues to do well."

 _What? He goes from telling me he isn't for me to wishing my business well? What the hell?_

I don't really know how to reply to what he has said, so I decide leaving the situation is the best.

"I must get on."

I place the key into the lock and step inside the building without looking back at Mr. Bates.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Would love your feedback._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** _Same 1-4._

* * *

I don't know why I feel so hurt. I close the flat door behind me a little harder than necessary and make my way to my room. It isn't like there is anything between us at all. We didn't establish anything other than getting to know some basics about one another, so why am I pacing? I'm carrying myself back and forth across the carpet as tears come to my eyes. Pacing? Crying? Over what? Something that never began? It seems obvious he wants nothing to do with me, though there was something in his eyes contradicting him. It doesn't matter. He told me exactly what he thinks. I should drop the whole thing and forget about it.

Walking into my room, I throw my phone, earbuds, and keys onto my dresser before I begin taking off my shoes and stripping out of my work out clothes. I quickly toss them into my laundry bin and make my way into the bathroom for a shower. I need to get the sweat and the scent of him off of me as quickly as possible. I turn on the water and as I wait for the water to heat up I take off my undergarments and release my hair from the elastic band I had tied around it.

The water is the right temperature when I step inside the small cubicle and as I wash the remnants of my jog off my body I try to wash the thoughts of him away, too.

When I'm finished and toweled off, I head back into my room and put on one of the many outfits I use when I make pottery. Dressed, I go into the front room and over to the shelves where I keep my almost completed pieces. I have a couple of new pieces that have been drying and are ready to be placed in the electric kiln. I pull back the heavy plastic and bring out each piece one at a time, placing them in the kiln until all the pieces are inside. I put the plastic back in place and set the kiln to the correct temperature. I close the lid to the kiln as the door is opening, Gwen enters our flat.

"Hey," she greets as she places her work bag and purse on the floor near the door.

She closes the door and walks over to sit on the sofa.

"So, tell me all about it."

"About what?" I reply as I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"What do you mean 'about what'? About your date with you know John Bates the billionaire," she says, looking at me like it's completely obvious, which it was but I'm trying not to think about it.

"It wasn't a date," I state.

"Oh, really? I think him asking you to tea on what was most likely a break for him is a date."

"Well, if it was it didn't go very well."

"What? How do you mean?"

I sigh, round the sofa, and sit on the other end.

"I mean it's quite obvious I could never be good enough for a man like John Bates."

"What a load of rubbish! Anna, you are intelligent, creative, and totally gorgeous. John Bates would be damn lucky to have you," Gwen insists.

"He told me he wasn't the man for me, so I'm just taking that as his way of saying 'thanks but no thanks'."

"Maybe he's the one that thinks he's not good enough for you. Ever think about that?"

"No."

"Well, I think you should. If you could see how he kept looking at you today then you would think that way."

"I'd rather not talk about it, Gwen."

"All right," Gwen sighs. "Well, the article is done. Would you like to see it at least?"

I look to Gwen and find that I can't decline the offer.

"All right. I'll look at it."

Gwen gets up from the sofa, opens her work bag, and brings over the article. Handing it to me, I look at what is going to be published in the newspaper.

"Is this going in tomorrow?"

"It is."

The first thing that draws my attention is a picture of, Mr-Secret-Smile, himself on the right side of the page.

"How did you get this picture?"

"I spoke to his secretary, Phyllis, and got this picture approved for the article."

Phyllis. She must be the woman who sits at the desk outside of his office.

He is wearing a maroon, single-breasted, one button suit jacket with a white shirt, long black tie, and black trousers. His hair is combed over to the right, and I notice now he keeps it slightly long so he can comb it this way, which I like but I will not allow myself to think it. His express is stoic. By looking at him you can't tell if he's happy, sad, pleased, or displeased. He has more than likely perfected this expression over the years.

"So, what do you think?"

Gwen brings me out of my staring. I look up to her.

"You didn't even read it did you? Too busy staring. He'll be in black and white in the paper," she teased.

"Oh hush you. I was getting around to it."

I look back at the article and read it over. It is very well written in spite of the horrible interviewing job I did. It makes him seem like a fair business man with a heart for hydrating the world. I think he'll enjoy reading it.

"It's really good, Gwen."

"Thank you."

"I'm just going to go get some of my invoicing done in my room," I tell her as I hand the article back over and stand.

* * *

The following week, I return to my flat after personally delivering a few finished pieces. I park my car along the street and head for the lobby door. Most times I use other forms of transportation, but when I make deliveries locally I'm glad to have my car. It's an older, dark blue mini that I have had ever since I began driving.

Opening the door to my flat, I walk in and Gwen walks out of the kitchen. I close the door and place my purse on the table by the door.

"You've got a huge package over there," Gwen says as she points to where a big cardboard box is sitting behind the sofa.

"Me?"

"Yeah, there's a small note card but I didn't open it."

"Maybe it's from my mum."

Gwen just shrugs as I make my way to the box. I lift the note card envelope and slit it open. I unfold it and look to the paper.

 _Our doubts are traitors, and make us_

 _lose the good we might oft win by_

 _fearing to attempt._

Putting the note aside, I open the box to see an electric kiln inside, and not just any kiln, it's a Davinci X2327D. It's one of the most expensive in home kilns money can buy.

"Oh my God," I gasp as I look at it.

"Holy shit," Gwen remarks as she looks at it. "This kiln puts yours to shame. Was this Bates?"

"Who else would send me a very expensive kiln."

Gwen picks up the note and reads it.

"Well, he knows his Shakespeare, but what is he saying?"

"I can't think between the lines right now."

"All I know is he's definitely into you. Why else would he send you something so expensive yet personal."

"I don't care. This is way too over the top. I can't accept this. I'm going to give it back."

"Good luck with that. The thing weighs a ton."

That night after my shift at Jenkins a group of us decide to go down the pub for the night. We do this from time to time. A few of us from Jenkins will go plus Gwen and a couple of her colleagues, and Thomas.

"This music is shite," Thomas yells over the loud music blaring over the speakers.

"Whatever I like it," Gwen yells back as she looks to her co-worker Leslie.

Thomas rolls his eyes as Gary brings over another round of shots.

"Gary has the right idea," Gwen thinks out loud.

Gary sits on his chair and each one of us takes a shot glass in hand and downs the liquor.

"Oh my God! This song. We gotta dance to it," Gwen insists as she stands up.

Gary, Leslie, and one of my other co-workers Ben get up as well. Gwen never really has a problem with being the more popular one. For one she has beautiful red hair and her outfits are usually well put together. She knows what's in style and so forth. Me, I'm just a plain Jane. Tonight I'm wearing a simple black cotton tee, with jeans, and my Chaco sandals.

"So, you both still plan on coming to my show?" Thomas asks me.

I look over to him and feel my head spin.

"Yeah, of course. We have the details at home. We wouldn't miss your big break."

Thomas smiled, "I guess I'm just nervous is all."

"That's to be expected, but I have no doubt those ladies will look hawt!"

We both laugh at my choice of word, and it seems to quell Thomas' nerves for now.

I take my purse in hand and excuse myself to the loo. When I stand up I take a moment to make sure I don't fall over. When I feel like I can walk the distance to the loo, I make my way over to find a queue which is not a surprise.

As I wait, I open my purse to look for my phone, but laying on top of it if a piece of paper. I take it out to see in Gwen's handwriting John Bates' telephone number written on it.

When did she put this in my purse? Did she think I might call and invite him here? Well that's the last thing I plan on doing.

Looking at the number, I pull out my phone.

 _Maybe I can call to ask why he would send me something so outrageous when he doesn't think I'm good enough!_

I type his number into my phone and push call.

"Anna May?" I hear him say when he picks up.

I begin to giggle at hearing him being caught off guard by me calling him, but my giggling stops when I realize through my haze that I've never called him before yet he knows it's me.

"Why would you send that to me? A fecking expensive kiln," I blurt out with slurred words.

"Are you all right? You don't sound right."

"No, it's you who don't sound right. Mr. Confusing."

"Anna May, are you drunk?"

"None of your business."

"Are you at home?" I can hear the concern in his voice.

"No, I'm out with friends, but I don't have to tell you that." Though I just did.

"Where are you?"

I laugh, "You already forgot where I live."

"Okay, so you're still in Hackney, but where."

"In a pub."

"Which pub?"

"A pub in Hackney." _Hah!_

I can hear him sigh through the phone. He gets so uptight.

"Do you have a way home?"

"I'll get there. Why did you send me that kiln, John?"

"Anna May, you need to tell me where you are right now."

There he goes with his authoritative voice again.

"And you need to tell me why."

"Anna, where the hell are you?"

I burst into giggles at him being concerned.

"Good night, John."

"Anna!"

I end the call as I'm next in line. When the next stale opens I go inside. I smile as I think about hanging up on him. It serves him right, though he didn't tell me why he sent the kiln. I pout.

It takes me much longer to finish up in the loo than I thought it would, but I've never been well and truly drunk before. I have been tipsy, but tonight just seemed like the night to go full on. Walking out of the loo, I hear my phone ringing from my purse. I pull it out. _Oh, God._

"Hello," I speak quietly into the phone though the music is back to blaring.

"I'm coming to get you."

He hangs up, and I shove the phone back into my purse. From where he lives it would take more than likely forty-five minutes to an hour to get here if there was traffic, and besides he doesn't know where I am.

I make it back to our table and see they've ordered a pitch of ale. I look at it with disgust.

"Anna, where have you been?" Gwen yells.

"I have been in the queue for the loo. I think I'm going to step outside."

Gwen nods as the pitcher makes it to her.

I stumble a couple of times on my way out. When I reach the night air, the full impact of my drunkenness hits me. I am so messed up. I reach the wall of some flower beds and lean against it. I feel so nauseous. I think I might be ill.

"Hey, how you feeling?"

I see Gary approaching me.

"I think I might have to die before I feel better."

"Yeah, I've never seen you drink that much before. Here let me help."

He tries wrapping his arm around my back, but I try to move away from him.

"No thanks. I just need a few minutes."

He doesn't take the hint and holds me to him. I feel light-headed and now smothered by him holding me.

"No, Gary. Stop."

"Anna. Please."

It's at this that I can see his head leaning down towards mine. He's going to kiss me. Me and Gary are only friends, and I don't want this, any of this.

"Gary, no," I say as I try to push him back.

"Please," he whispers.

"No."

Oh, I am most definitely going to be ill.

"I believe Miss Smith said no."

I gasp at hearing his voice, and Gary turns around to meet a pair of very cold eyes.

"Mr. Bates," Gary clips.

All I see is two very pissed off men staring each other down, and I can no longer take it. My body gives way, and I retch on the pavement.

"Shit. Anna," Gary says and walks over to the entrance.

I feel soft hands on me as Mr. Bates turns me around so I can be sick in the flower bed. He collects my hair and holds it away from my face.

"I'll stay right here with you if you think you'll be ill again," he informs calmly.

I feel like sobbing but that would only add to my throbbing head. What a mess I am. I retch into the flower bed again as Mr. Bates puts an arm around my waist to keep me from crumbling to the floor. My mind goes blank for a while as my physical actions take over my mental ones. When my mind begins to clear I feel embarrassment wash over me.

I lift my head and breathe a few deep breaths. Mr. Bates hands me a white, linen handkerchief with _JB_ monogrammed on it. I can't bring myself to ruin it.

"I can't use this," I say.

"Use it. I have plenty more."

I bring the cloth to my mouth and am thankful to be able to clan myself up some. I have a foul taste in my mouth which makes me almost outwardly cringe. I feel like I can't bring myself to face him. It's twice now that I have feel this way in front of him. The last one being his letting me down easy and now this.

I see Gary still lurking near the entrance. What an idiot. He's my _friend._ He shouldn't have tried for anything more.

"I'll see you inside," he says before he opens the door and goes inside.

We stand there in silence for a few seconds before I know I have to look at him. I'm pretty sure he'd wait here all night until I did.

I slowly tilt my head up and meet his eyes. They are focused on me, and I can't tell what he is thinking. What do I say?

"I'm sorry," I find myself saying.

"Sorry for what, Anna May?"

"For you seeing me like this. For the stupid phone call."

"Most of us have ended up in this situation one time or the other," he states. "I am one for pushing limits, but you need to think about your limits next time. Is this another habit?"

Is he lecturing me? Surely, he's not standing here while I'm feeling like I've been ran over repeatedly asking me if I get drunk on a regular basis. So what if I did? It's none of his business. I can't bring myself to tell him that though not when he's right here, but then again I didn't tell him to come here.

"No, it's my first time actually."

I feel myself wobble as my head swims. He holds me to him. He feels warm.

"Let's get you home."

"I need to let Gwen."

"I can call her from your phone."

"No, I need to tell her else she'll worry."

He gives me a hard look but gives in to my request.

In the next moment, he let's me go but takes my hand in his, and we walk back into the pub. He holds my hand firmly, trying to keep me steady, as we scan the area for Gwen. I spot her on the dance floor, and I point her out to Mr. Bates. He leans closer to me to see where I am pointing to and oh he smells so good. It smells as though he had just showered and sprayed himself with cologne, but maybe he always smelled that way. I'm broken from my daydream, which I have no doubt I'll be trying to process what that means over the next few days, as we make our way over to her.

When we reach her I explain to her I'm leaving with Mr. Bates. I know she wants to give me a wink but doesn't since he's standing right there. If she only knew what I had just done outside then she wouldn't be thinking what she was. There is no chance of anything like that happening.

Our conversation is brief before we set off again towards the entrance. He runs his hand through his hair a couple of times in frustration as people keep stepping in front of us. We finally make it outside, and it's the first time I notice what he is wearing. He's wearing a blue linen shirt, dark denims, and a pair of gray brogues. The top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, and I can see a puff of hair poking out. He's quite manly.

My sight begins to tunnel as he starts to pull his phone out of his pocket. I feel my limbs loosening as my eyes start to go dark. I faintly see him shoving his phone back into his pocket and hear him yell out an explicit before I pass out in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _I've been slow I know. Are we still liking this one?_

 **Disclaimer:** _Same 1-5._

* * *

I wake up to a soft light peeking through the curtains. I stretch my limbs in the large bed I am occupying as my mind is trying to focus itself for the new day. The bed is comfortable, way more comfortable than my own. I yawn and the inside of my mouth is stale and dry. Blinking my eyes to clear the fog, I move myself into a seated position up against the headboard. Where am I? The bedroom is large with clean white walls, a wood carved fireplace, and shiny hard wood floors.

Looking down at myself, I notice I am no longer wearing my jeans, but the rest of my clothing is still on me. The memory of last night comes back to me, and I wince as the pressure in my head reminds me as well. I feel my cheeks flush as the embarrassment washes over me again. What a sight I must have been. Turning my head, I see on the side table a glass of water and a couple of tablets.

 _Am I in John Bates' house?_

Before I forget, I take the tablets and drink all of the water. I return the glass to the table when I hear a knock at the door. My heart rate quickens as he opens the door and walks in.

My brain temporarily shuts down as I watch him walk over. The first thing I notice is he's wearing glasses. I feel my insides flutter at the sight of them. His dress shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and is hanging open so his undershirt can be seen. He's still in jeans which are doing incredible things for his legs.

"Good morning," he greets.

"Good morning," I reply sheepishly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better than I was feeling last night."

"I should hope so."

I fidget as I ask, "How did I get here?"

"Coming here was closer than going to your flat. So, I brought you here."

I meet his eyes which are a dark green shade.

"But... your home is rather far away. At least I thought-"

"This isn't my home, Anna May."

I shift my eyes to look at the bed sheet.

"Oh. Where are we?"

"We are at the Town Hall Hotel. It's one of my home away from homes."

 _Why didn't he just take me home and go back home himself? Is he still staying in Hackney?_

"You put me to bed?"

I look back up at him.

"Yes." He didn't even flinch.

I look back at myself sans jeans and ask, "You and me... did we?"

"I partially undressed you because your jeans needed to be cleaned, but no Anna May we didn't. I like my women alert. I quickly removed your sandals and your jeans and tucked you in," he says directly.

"Though last night's display is something I won't soon forget."

He smirks at me. He must think I'm hilarious. I feel as though I've been a big waste of his time.

"I'm sorry."

He seems pleased by my apology.

"Sorry for what, Anna May?"

Why does he need me to say it aloud?

"For being drunk enough to pass out."

"Apology accepted, though I have no desire to see you in that state ever again.

 _To see me like that again? Does that mean we'll see each other again?_

"How did you find me last night?"

"I tracked your phone."

My eyebrows lift as I give him a look.

"It's not anything that anyone can't do these days."

I knew he wasn't going to offer more.

"You still shouldn't have."

"It's a good thing I did."

"I would have been fine."

Something flashes across his eyes that I can't place.

"And what of your _work mate._ Seems he was pretty determined to do whatever he pleases. You shouldn't have been alone with him."

He runs his hand through his hair as his jaw clenches. It looks like he's trying not to be angry.

"He's only a friend," I say in defense.

"Some bloody friend."

"Are you going to keep lecturing me?"

His eyes meet mine.

"You're fortunate I'm only lecturing you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He paces a few steps.

"You were reckless, and you put yourself in harms way. That simply would not happen if you were mine. If it did, you wouldn't be sitting for a week."

He appears to be conflicted as he continues, "I can't bear to think what that idiot might have done to you or what else may have happened."

How dare him. I can take care of my own self thank you very much. I don't need billionaire, control freak, Bates to come to my rescue.

"Gary was just as drunk as I was. He didn't mean anything by it. He won't try it again after I talk to him."

"Well, next time someone should give him a more thorough lesson on how to be a gentleman."

"You like to put your foot down don't you," I mock.

He smiles, "You have no idea, Anna May."

He walks to the end of the bed and leans down. Standing back up, he's holding a small shopping bag. He walks over to me and places the bag in my lap.

I have to tilt my head further up to look at him.

"I had Lang go out to get you some fresh clothes. The en suite is just through there. Breakfast will be ready when your finished getting ready."

I feel so overwhelmed. It's like one moment I feel furious at him and the next moment I feel like I'm butter melting in his hands. The see-saw of emotions is already draining me.

He reaches down and gently touches the top of my head.

"Everything is okay."

I feel myself exhale deeply, and he retreats from the room closing the door behind him.

I quickly get myself out of bed and look at the contents in the shopping bag. Inside is a heather grey v-neck shirt, a pair of jeans, and what appears to be a very expensive light pink bra and knicker set. I blush furiously at the thought of two men possibly discussing my underwear not to mention Lang going to buy them. I take the bag with me into the en suite and proceed to turn on the shower.

As the water warms, I undress myself and set out my new clothing on the vanity bench.

Once inside the shower, I let the warm water cascade over me as my mind tries to figure everything out. I feel my whole body tingle, and I still feel where his hand touched the top of my head. My eyes close, and I feel a warmth run through me. I know part of it is from the water, but this was a different kind of warmth. I can feel it welling up inside of me, and I have never felt that kind of feeling before. _He_ is causing me to feel this way. I see a bottle of body wash and squirt some into my hand. It smells like him. I lather it over my body as I think about him. He's totally confusing. He told me point blank he isn't the man for me, but his actions didn't agree with his words. If he isn't why would he send me a kiln worth thousands of pounds. Why would he want to make sure I made it home okay? Why do I feel safe being with him here right now? There are so many mixed signals, but I can't keep myself from thinking about his tall, broad form with those glasses perched upon his nose. God, he's gorgeous. I got a really good look at his forearms too which did not disappoint. Lathering his body wash all over myself is not helping my thought process. All I'm thinking is in spite of everything I want John Bates. I actually want a man to take me to bed, and that has never happened with anyone else. It's freeing to admit that to myself.

I towel off after I'm finished showering. I put on all of my new clothing and take another towel to towel dry my hair the best I can. I don't have a hairbrush or anything to help my hair so I smooth it in place and step back into the bedroom. I find my sandals near the door. They have clearly been cleaned, so I put them on before I open the bedroom door.

The hotel suite is much larger than I had anticipated. The lounge is all modern furniture and clean lines as is the dining area where Mr. Bates is sitting looking at the newspaper.

 _The newspaper! Gwen!_

"I should call Gwen," I say as I approach the table.

Mr. Bates looks up from the newspaper, places it to the side, and says, "I texted her this morning. She knows you're okay."

I breathe out a sigh of relief. I have never stayed out with a man before, so I didn't want Gwen to worry.

"Please, sit," he commands as he removes his glasses.

I pull out the chair across from him and sit down. In the middle of the table between us is a large jug of water and a teapot. Directly in front of me is a covered plate.

He leans forward and pours me a glass of water. He's changed into a white polo shirt.

"Would you like tea as well?"

"Yes, please."

"I didn't know what you might like so there's a little bit of everything on the plate."

I lift the cover on the plate to see a full English breakfast. It smells amazing. As I lay the cover over to the side I see him add milk and sugar to my tea.

 _He knows how I take my tea after ordering once in front of him._

I notice he also has a covered plate, and he removes the lid to reveal eggs and toast. It is a simple gesture for him to wait to eat breakfast with me but a very nice one as well.

"Anything interesting in the newspaper?" I prompt knowing full well what is in today's newspaper.

"As a fact of matter there is," he replies pleasantly. "Though the bloke could look better."

There had been a hold up with Gwen's article being put into the paper, and she had been upset it might not end up being used. Today though it finally made it to print.

I wonder where the self-deprecating humor has come from. He is an incredibly handsome man.

"I think it's a nice photo."

He's in the middle of buttering his toast as his eyes snap up to mine. I feel myself blush, and his lips quirk upward.

"So, you got a sneak peek."

"I did. Gwen showed me a while ago," I say tentatively.

"It is very well written I must admit."

His comment makes me smile.

"Gwen is very good at her job."

I take a sip of my tea. It's Yorkshire tea. He's had to specifically ask for it which makes me happy for some reason.

We sit in silence for a bit as we each eat our food. It's him who breaks the silence.

"Drink your water."

He has already filled his glass twice while I haven't even taken a sip of mine.

"I have my tea."

"It won't hydrate you the way water will. You need water."

I decide not to argue over a glass of water so I take a few sips. It seems to satisfy him.

"I wanted to thank you for the clothes."

"You're very welcome."

"I'll write you a check for them. Just let me how much they were."

He lowers his teacup and looks at me.

"I'm not telling you how much they were."

"I need to pay you back. I've cost you so much already."

His jaw clenches, and I see he's processing what I've said.

"I believe you know money is not an issue for me."

"Yes, I know, but-"

"No buts. Just please accept the clothes, Anna May," he says firmly.

"Well, I can't very well accept the kiln," I state.

He leans back in his seat and sighs. He's probably annoyed, but right at that moment I don't care.

"Why did you give me the kiln?" I ask sincerely.

"The day I dropped you off at your flat and you almost fell backwards. You gave me a certain look, and I felt I owed you an explanation. What I said is true, but my willingness to accept it has been... difficult."

He leans forward with his elbows on the table.

"Anna May, you should stay away from me. I'm not a romantic, chocolates and roses, kind of man. My way is very... unique," he tries to explain while using his hands.

He licks his lips to moisten them.

"It has been difficult for me to stay away because there is something different in you, though you probably already know this."

Oh my God, John Bates just admitted without saying it that he may like me, too.

"You don't have to stay away," I breathe.

My goodness that is a brave thing for me to say. I've never been so forward with a man before.

His face goes blank for a few seconds.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Then tell me what I need to know."

His face is colorless. I have no idea what is going on in his mind. We sit in silence for a while until he speaks.

"What are your days like coming up?"

I am slightly annoyed that he completely changed the subject.

"I work at Jenkins tomorrow night and the following. My pottery is usually done at my own pace. I've been sort of job hunting around some art galleries, so maybe I can stop working at the art supply shop."

"Is that what you'd like to do?"

"Work in an art gallery? Yes, I'd love to."

"A woman with set goals. I admire that."

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. I feel slightly shy at his compliment. It is clear he can be sweet when he wants to be.

"You're not the only one who wants to bite that lip," he whispers with cloudy eyes.

I'm pretty sure I feel my heart stop as I release my lip. I feel my nerve endings come to life. I realize that is exactly what I want him to do.

"I'm not stopping you," I say, encouraging him.

"Oh, Miss Smith," he says like a warning. "I won't be doing that."

I feel chest fallen. Why would he say something like that then take it right back?

"Why not?"

"Because I don't touch anyone without written consent. That would include you as well."

 _What did he just say?_

"What?"

I could swear a sad smile appears on his face briefly.

"I'll have to show you. Would you be free this evening?"

"I don't have any other plans."

"Good. We could have dinner at my place, and I'll show you what I mean then. Only if that is what you want though."

"Would it not just be easier to let me know now?"

"Right now I am very much enjoying your company. After this evening, I don't know if I'll have that pleasure again."

What is that about? Is he part of the mafia? Is he part of a drug ring? Does he have some form of condition? Well whatever it is, I guess it is better to know sooner rather than later.

"I'll come tonight."

"Then tonight it is," he responds with his famous smirk.

He quickly picks up his phone and presses a number on his speed dial.

"Lang. I need you at Miss Smith's flat this evening."

"7pm."

"Manhattan Tower. Stay on stand-by all night."

 _Am I staying all night?!_

"Yes. Good."

He hangs up the call abruptly.

"Why is Lang picking me up?"

"Because I told him to. I'll take you home soon. I have a few things I need to finish up at the office, and then Lang will be at yours at seven this evening."

I squirm in my seat a little at the thought of going to Mr. Bates' house in a few hours.

"Drink the rest of your water."

The last thing I'm thinking of at this moment is drinking water. I'm too excited to be spending more time with him.

He looks at me expectantly, and I find myself drinking the rest of my water.

"Very good."

When we are finished with breakfast. I see my older clothes and my purse sitting on the sofa in the lounge. I go into the en suite to collect the shopping bag and bring it out with me to place my clothes inside the bag. I sling my purse over my shoulder, take the shopping bag in hand, and walk in his direction.

"So, where did you end up sleeping last night?"

"In bed," he states simply.

"Oh... I bet it's not often that you... that you..."

"No, I never sleep with anyone."

Wait, does he mean he sleeps alone or did he just admit he was a virgin? No, it can't be the latter. Surely, not.

I have the sudden urge to pee.

"I just need to use the loo then we can go."

I lay my stuff back down on the sofa and walk back through the bedroom into the bathroom. I quickly use the toilet and wash my hands at the sink. I take a look inside his cabinet and see a bottle of mouth wash. I grab it, unscrew the lid, and pour a small amount into the lid. I then pour the liquid into my mouth and begin swishing it around in my mouth as I replace the bottle back in the cabinet and close the door. After it burns for a few seconds I spit it out into the sink, turning on the tap as I do. I make sure the sink is tidy before I leave the bathroom. As I make my way back out I hear him talking. He's on his phone but looking in my direction.

"Yes. Ask them how many for the area. No... Good. I would think at least two maybe more. Yes. Keep me updated."

He hangs up and says, "Ready?"

I take my things from the sofa once more and nod. It may be odd, but I'm sad to be leaving even though I'll be seeing him again soon. The thought makes me smile. I have enjoyed his company, though the reason why I'm here is still very much embarrassing. He thought of everything really, the water and tablets, the fresh clothes, breakfast, even the tea I enjoy. He is a man of detail, and I think I like it.

We reach the lift, and he presses the down button making it light up. We've been silent since we left the suite, and now we are glancing at each other out of the corner of our eyes. His are a deep, rich green, and it makes my stomach flutter. The elevator arrives and he motions me to enter first. I step inside and it's empty. He presses the button for the ground floor and the doors close.

I don't know if it's the humming of the lift or the humming of my own blood, but something is pulling me to him. It's like a magnetic pull and from his altered breathing I know he feels it too. He looks over to me, and I sigh a wanton sigh like I never have before in my life.

"Screw the paperwork," he says powerfully.

The next thing I know he's pinning me up against the wall of the lift. I drop the shopping bag to the floor as my hands wander up to his shoulders. His body is pressed against me as his lips touch mine. I moan into his mouth as we deepen the kiss, exploring each other. It's frantic, and so freaking hot. I have been kissed before but nothing like this. He brings one hand up to the side of my neck, and I want him. My mind tries to think of a way to press the emergency stop button, but it's too preoccupied with how he's making me feel.

"You are incredible," he says after he pulls back.

The lift stops and the doors open. He walks out of the lift like nothing happened. I reach down to collect my shopping bag as a few people enter. I'm suddenly aware I'm slightly panting, which earns me a couple of knowing smiles.

I catch up with him, and he looks as cool as a cucumber.

 _Must be nice to have that much control over yourself._ I'm still in a slight daze.

We walk a few more steps towards the front, and I hear him clear his throat. I smirk. Maybe he's as impacted as I am. My newly found inner goddess is flipping her hair and strutting.

"Did you use my mouth wash?" he asks.

"I did."

"Did you think I was going to kiss you?"

He opens the door leading outside for me to walk through. As I walk past him, I reply, "Hoping for it more like."

He tries his best to hide his smirk.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** _Same 1-6._

* * *

"Where's Secret Agent Man?" I tease as he turns on the engine to his Audi SUV.

"His name is Lang," he says straight faced as he focuses on pulling onto the road.

I have only said one sentence since being in the car and have already pissed him off. _Good going, Anna._

"Sorry."

He seems to relax once we are safely driving in the direction of my flat.

"Lang is handling some other affairs for me. I do drive, Miss Smith."

Oh, so now we are back to Miss Smith even after him kissing me. I don't know if I'll ever understand him.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, and he seems to be miles away. I wonder what he is thinking. Is he thinking about the lift? I know I certainly am. And what did he mean by 'screw the paperwork' anyway?

As we turn the corner, I hear his phone ringing throughout the car. He quickly pushes a button on the steering wheel with his thumb.

"Bates."

I almost want to laugh at how he answers his phone, but I didn't dare.

"The NDA you requested is in your email, Mr. Bates."

The woman's voice sounds familiar.

"Thank you, Phyllis."

He hangs up the call without saying goodbye but at least I know he has the capability of saying thank you. We drive for about a minute more when his ringtone sounds again.

"Bates."

"Mr. Bates, Cass here. Confirming the scheduled meeting with the pump suppliers next week."

"Great."

"See you tomorrow, sir."

I can see these to-the-point conversations are the norm for him.

This time he presses a different button on the steering wheel and music fills our space. It sounds like jazz, which I like.

"Do you-"

He tries to ask me a question but the music cuts off when his ringtone sounds yet again.

It makes me wonder if this is his every day routine. I would hate for people to call me nonstop every day.

"Bates."

I can tell by his tone he's getting irritated.

"John, it's Harding. We going golfing soon or what?"

"You know I'm rubbish at it."

"Even more reason for us to place bets. Ring me soon we'll set up a time."

"Will do."

"Bye, John."

"Goodbye."

Oh, he selectively says goodbye. In the matter of a few minutes he has had three different types of interactions. I don't know how he keeps it all straight in his head.

We arrive outside my flat and as soon as we are parked Mr. Bates gets out of the car. He rounds the front of it and comes to my side to open my door. I turn my head as I unbuckle my seat belt to cover my pleased smile. He is being such a gentleman for opening my door.

With seat belt off, I turn my head and he offers his hand to me.

"Miss Smith."

I place my hand in his and instantly feel that pull of energy. It's like my hand was made to be in his, and I feel a river of heat flow threw me as his hand encloses around mine.

He helps me out of the car and continues to hold my hand as we make it to the lobby door. I reach my free hand up and buzz my flat number.

"Yeah," I hear come from the intercom.

"It's me."

The lobby door is unlocking in the next moment, and Mr. Bates holds it open while I walk in first.

I stop and turn to face him. As I look into his eyes I feel myself blush as I think about what happened in the lift. I am hoping another kiss like that one will happen before he leaves.

"Um. Thank you for this morning."

"It was my pleasure, Anna May."

His stare is becoming way too intense, so I break our eye contact.

"I'll see you this evening then."

"I will walk you to your door."

"There's no need."

"There is every need. After you, Miss Smith."

I turn and walk to the lifts. I press the up button and feel myself getting excited again. Maybe he just wants to get me inside a lift again. The thought makes me tingle.

The doors open with a soft ping and we enter the confined space. I press the number for my floor and the doors close.

Mr. Bates is standing directly beside me, and I'm waiting for his repeat performance.

"Not this time," he almost whispers.

My inner goddess stomps her feet and walks out of the room. She is not best pleased at not being kissed again.

The lift stops and the doors open to my floor. We exit the lift and walk the short distance to my flat. The door is open when we reach it, and I stand in the doorway.

"Anna!" calls out Thomas.

I immediately feel Mr. Bates' hand on the small of my back as he too fills the doorway. I walk inside with his hand still pressed to me.

"Thomas," I smile.

He walks over and gives me a kiss on each cheek. He then steps back to look Mr. Bates over.

"Hello," he says to him before he looks to me. "Who's this?"

Before I even get the chance to reply, John is reaching his hand out.

"John Bates."

Thomas' eyes widen as he quickly looks to me then back to him. He takes his hand.

"Thomas Barrow."

"Pleasure, Mr. Barrow."

"Like wise."

The two men drop their hands before I speak.

"So, what's up?"

"I just came by real quick to get Gwen's opinion on a few pairs of jeans. I think we decided on which pair I should keep. I was just about to leave before you came in."

Just then Gwen comes into the room from her bedroom.

"Hey-"

Gwen stops in her tracks, and I know it is because John is standing there with me.

"Hey, Gwen."

"Hey, Anna. Hello, Mr. Bates," Gwen says.

"Hello, Miss Dawson."

"Oh, please, call me Gwen," Gwen replies.

"Gwen," John says with a nod.

"Well, I better get going," Thomas interjects as he collects his shopping bag.

I realize I'm still holding mine. I walk over to the kitchen table to sit the bag down, and my back still feels warm from his touch.

"I'll see you soon. Ring me," I say to Thomas.

"I will. See you girls soon."

Thomas walks towards the open door and addresses John as he leaves.

"Goodbye, Mr. Bates."

"Goodbye, Mr. Barrow."

Thomas walks out of the flat, and I walk over to close the door.

As I turn back around, I see Mr. Bates has wondered over to some of my drying pottery. His hands are deep inside his pockets, and his stance is wide as he looks.

"Anna does lovely work," Gwen voices.

"Yes."

I'm surprised at how readily he agrees. I watch as his eyes land on both the kilns. He turns until he's fully looking at them, and he frowns.

"The older one hasn't been removed?"

Gwen and I look at each other before I say, "No."

"I'll have it removed as soon as possible." His comment is said with finality.

"You really don't have to do that since I can't keep the other one."

His head turns, and his eyes meet mine.

"This will help you to better excel at your profession, Miss Smith. I insist on you keeping it. I'll have the old one removed today."

He walks back over to me and gives me a determined look.

"Lang will be here at exactly 7pm. Does he need to come up?"

"No, I'll come down."

"I'll see you tonight."

At that, he walks to the door, opens it, and closes it behind him as he leaves.

How in the world did I lose that battle with him so quickly? Jeez, he's demanding.

"What was that?"

I turn to look at Gwen who is flopping down on the sofa.

"I guess he really wants me to have it," I shrug.

"No kidding. So, you've been with him since last night?"

Her smirk tells me all I need to know.

"It wasn't like that Gwen," I hiss.

"Wasn't like what?" she asks innocently.

"We didn't... you know!" I said as I throw my hands up in the air.

"Then what's all this about some person named Lang picking you up at seven."

I bite the inside of my lip as I try to navigate this conversation.

"I am seeing him again tonight."

Gwen's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh my God. It's finally happening!"

Gwen gets to her feet.

"What's happening?"

"Anna Smith is falling for a man!" she shrieks.

I suddenly feel warm and very vulnerable.

 _Am I falling for John Bates?_

Maybe I am. No, I know I am.

"I think I am," I admit out loud.

"Holy moly! And you're going on a date with him tonight! Do you think you might...?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"We've got to get Thomas back over here."

"What for?" I say as Gwen gets her phone out.

"Because if you're having sex tonight. You need to look sexable."

"Sexable? Is that a word? And don't I look _sexable_ anyway?"

"Thomas, it's Gwen. It's a make over 999," I hear Gwen say as she walks to her room.

I roll my eyes and sigh as I walk to my room. Should I be making this a big deal? My subconscious is trying really hard not to slap me while screaming 'Of course it is!'

I feel my stomach knot up. What if everything went wrong, but on the other hand what if everything went really really well? My cheeks burn as the sensation of him kissing me comes back to me.

"Okay, we only have eight hours," Gwen exclaims as she comes into my room, breaking me from my day dream.

"Isn't that more than enough time to make me, as you put it, sexable?" I say sarcastically.

"Anna, you know what I mean. Men like a little extra effort."

I guess she isn't wrong.

"So, everything did go okay didn't it?" She asks me as she brings herself back to reality as well.

"Yeah."

"I must say it was weird getting a text from him through your phone."

My brow knits together as I reply, "I didn't realize he'd used my phone. He just said he had texted you."

"He's also quite formal even in a casual setting."

"He's just being polite."

I guess it is now my natural instinct to defend him.

"Right. Polite, older, and not to mention rich! Thomas should be here soon."

I didn't even get to reply before she walked out of the room.

* * *

"We might end up giving John Bates a heart attack," Thomas comments as I walk into the front room.

I am very thankful they didn't try to improve for a full eight hours. We went to lunch and did some shopping before Thomas got a hold of me.

"I very well hope not," I say as I close my clutch.

"That would be a waste," Gwen teases.

I give her a look and she giggles.

My dress is simple, black, and strapless. My heels make me a good five inches taller, and my hair and make up look good thanks to Thomas.

"Call or text if you need me."

"I will Gwen. Thank you both."

"You don't want to be late," Thomas adds as I give both of them a hug.

No, for some reason I believe Mr. Bates does not approve of tardiness.

Waving bye, I close the flat door behind me and make my way to the lift.

Once I am inside the small, enclosed space, I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly. Tonight will end up being a big deal one way or the other. I'm hoping it turns out favorably, and it ends up being possible for me and John Bates to see more of each other.

Exiting the lift, I roll my shoulders back, trying to build my confidence, and open the lobby door.

Outside I see the now familiar black SUV parked out front. Once Lang sees me he gets out of the car and rounds it to open the door for me.

"Miss Smith," he greets professionally.

"Please, call me Anna," I reply before I sit down on the cool leather seat.

Lang closes the door and rounds the vehicle again to get into the driver's seat.

The drive to Manhattan Tower is deafeningly quiet. A few questions roll around in my head that I could ask him, but I keep them to myself for now. John explained earlier that he would tell me what I need to know tonight, so if I have any questions that he doesn't answer then I'll ask.

"Almost there, ma'am."

Lang breaks me from my day dreaming with his words. _Ma'am?_

I guess my telling him to call me Anna went in one ear and right out the other. I look out the window and see a towering building. I have no doubt that is Manhattan Tower where he lives. When we reach the building Lang pulls the car into an underground garage. He puts in a code to lift the gate and we go fully into the garage. Lang backs into a parking space and comes around once again to open my door.

"Miss Smith."

"Anna," I repeat after he closes the door once I exit.

"Please, follow me."

I follow Lang to a lift and step inside with him. He presses a code into the keypad inside the lift and the doors close. I feel my nerves increase as the lift whisks me up higher into the sky, but I'm not able to focus on it long as the lift stops and the doors open.

Lang exits and holds open the foyer door for me. I exit the lift with an exhale and step inside John Bates' penthouse. Stepping fully inside the foyer, Lang disappears, and I am left standing in the middle of a large foyer. The dark, buffed wooden floors bring a warmth to the room in contrast to the cream colored walls. There is an ample, round mahogany table in the middle of the space with a sizeable boutique of white hydrangeas in a clear vase. The wall to the right has a rectangular mirror.

Sensing I am supposed to walk further into the place, I walk into a vast room just down from the foyer. My mouth opens slightly as I take in my surroundings. There are two large sofas made of chocolate brown leather, and two very tasteful armchairs in what I'm assuming is supposed to be the lounge area. The lighting must be on a dimmer because there is a soft, inviting glow to the room. Along the wall is a stone fireplace that looks as though it has all the modern capabilities. It makes the space have a homey fill without the inconvenience of a traditional fireplace. A few paintings are dotted along the walls, and as I turn my head to scan the other direction I see a black grand piano near a set of floor to ceiling windows. It makes me wonder if he knows how to play. Taking a few steps more, I see a wide wood carved staircase. It could easily accommodate four people walking up the stairs side by side. A dining area is just beyond that with a mahogany table large enough to seat eight people. Another large vase is also upon this table but it contains stunning white lillies. Before I've made a full circle I see a kitchen which could easily have fallen out of a home and garden magazine. It's all custom cabinetry, sleek granite worktops, and has a large breakfast bar at it's center.

"Good evening, Miss Smith."

My breath hitches as I hear Mr. Bates' baritone voice caress my ears. I turn to see him trying to restrain a smile. He's dressed in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His collar is unbuttoned, and his hair is free from product. God, he looks so good.

"Good evening, Mr. Bates," I manage to say.

"I trust your journey was satisfactory?"

 _Is he trying to ask me if the car ride was okay?_

"Yes. Thank you."

His eyes light up by my response.

"You are very welcome, Anna May. May I offer you something to drink?"

He waves a hand toward the kitchen, and we walk together into the room.

"I don't normally approve of alcohol, but that is a rule I set on myself. I don't mind if you partake in moderation," he smirks as I set my clutch purse on the breakfast bar.

"I don't think I should after last night."

 _Does he really want to see me like that again? Because I most certainly don't!_

"I have a white wine chilled. If you would like a glass, I'll pour one for you."

I can't help but pick up his emphasis on the word 'one'.

"Please," I almost whisper.

I have a feeling I may need it.

He sets to work on my drink as I turn to look out the vast windows. I see he has a spacious balcony. I bet the sunsets are gorgeous from there.

"Here we go," he says as he reaches my side.

I accept the glass from him and notice he has a glass of water in his other hand. I take a quick sip of the wine, and it is delicious.

"You're being very quiet. Are you all right, Anna May?"

I murmur, "Yes."

Sitting his glass of water on the bar, he looks at me and says seriously, "I would never make you stay. You know are you free to leave at any time don't you?"

For some reason, I know he means it.

"I know."

He gives me a slight nod.

"We could sit in the lounge if you wish."

"Okay."

He picks his water glass back up and takes my hand in the other before we both walk over to sit on the insanely comfortable sofa. He places his glass on the coffee table, and I follow his lead and do the same.

A smile pulls at my lips as I look around the space. I can't get over how immense it is.

"What are you thinking?" he asks as he makes himself more comfortable.

"I'm thinking why someone like me could possibly be here."

"Someone like you?" His tone gets firmer. "It's displeases me to hear you speak badly of yourself, Miss Smith."

My eyes absentmindedly look to the floor.

"You are here to learn more about me, and things will be quite different after you do."

My eyes snap up to meet his. I'm greeted with fear and dear I say longing? It's a confusing mixture.

"I don't care what I found out about you. Whatever it is. It wouldn't alter my opinion one bit," I reply confidently.

Something flashes across his eyes.

"But it will. It most certainly will."

"I don't believe so."

"Anna May you have no idea what you are saying."

"That's because you still haven't told me anything."

This seems to make him silent for a few seconds. He looks at me intently and sighs, "You're right. I'll be back in a moment."

I watch as he gets to his feet. He opens a door to the left I hadn't noticed before and walks inside. I fidget with my hands in my lap until I see him reenter the room with pieces of paper in his hand.

He sits back down beside me and hands me two sheets of paper.

"What am I looking at?" I ask as I skim over the page.

"My solicitor insists I use non-disclosure agreements. That is what this is," he admits with just the hint of sheepishness.

I frown as I continue to look at it.

"Am I supposed to sign this?"

"Only if you want to."

"What if I don't sign it?"

I look over to him and meet his gaze.

"Then this is as far as we can go."

"And if I do?"

"Then I can speak freely with you."

I take a moment to let it sink in before I ask my next question.

"What all does this mean?"

"It means everything about us would be private and confidential. Neither you nor I would have the right to talk about anything about us to anyone."

I feel my eyes widened imperceptibly. Whatever is it I'm going to find out about him must be something bad, really bad. Now, I have to know.

Looking back at the table I see an ink pen has magically appeared. I take up the ink pen and sign the NDA.

"You didn't even read it," he comments reproachfully.

"I don't need to. I would never tell anything private about us anyway, John. Me signing this paper or not signing it would not change that fact."

"Yes... Well..." he stammered.

 _Stammering John!_

I flip to the second page to see is it just a copy of the same thing. I quickly sign that copy as well and lay the pen down.

When I am done. He picks up the pen and signs both the copies as well.

"I would like for you to keep a copy."

I nod in agreement, but more than anything I want to roll my eyes.

"We can speak freely now, Anna May."

He sounds relieved.

"I was speaking to you freely before I signed," I reply bluntly.

"Yes, I believe you were."

He looks at me so directly that I reach for my wine glass and take a big gulp before sitting it back on the table.

"Are you going to make love to me, John?"

 _Oh, God! What am I saying?_

I have really got to swear off alcohol. It is obvious I lose my mind when I drink it!

His facial features falter sightly before he composes himself.

"Speaking of speaking freely, there are some things you should know."

He leans in closer so he can almost whisper into my ear.

"You need to know I don't make love. I fuck... hard. There is more we need to discuss and go over. Also, after I show you my playroom you may want to leave and never come back."

I feel my head swim. The way he leaned in and spoke into my ear about well... not making love has me wanting to find out more. I'm not sure what a playroom has to do with it though.

"Is it like a man cave with video game systems?" I ask.

He chuckles and takes my hand in his.

"Man cave? Maybe. Video games? Definitely not. Come."

With my hand securely in his, he leads me to the wide, wood carved staircase. When we reach the top he stops at the first door to the right and looks at me.

He pulls a key out of his pocket, places it in the lock, and looks back at me before he turns it.

"As I said before you are free to leave at any time. Lang is on stand by to take you home whenever you wish. If you'd like to stay the night you may, and he will take you home in the morning. The decision is completely up to you."

I gently place a hand on his forearm to stop him from rambling.

"John, just open the door."

Without anymore words, he turns the key in the lock and opens the door. He steps back so I can be the first to enter. He turns on the overhead lights, and I take in a deep breath.

 _Oh. My. God._

* * *

 **A/N:** _The rating will be changing to M after this chapter.  
_


	7. Shades of Bates Note

**A/N:** Hey everyone. This isn't a new chapter. It is just a note from me to all of you. I have received a couple of reviews doubting this story could work for John and Anna, and also a couple of private messages telling me this story doesn't belong. In the beginning, I knew this story might bring about some concerns. I said upfront to let me know if I should continue. So that being said, it will not break my heart not to continue this one if most of the fandom are turned off by it. I will put my time and effort into my other stories as well as some one-shots I have going on.

So, Banna fandom, you tell me, should I continue or not?

I do not mind constructive criticism, because believe me I know I'm not the best or most grammatically accurate writer, so those of you who have reached out to me have no worries. I appreciate you and all those who take the time to read what I put out there.

I will delete this note after I see some feedback. Notes for this message both by guest or user are welcome, as well as private messages. I will not take offense to anything said.


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